The caffeine's starting to wear off

I thought I knew what kind of girl I was 6 years ago, when mother's womb let me go, and the world ate me up. Stepping cautiously, still dodging obstacles of childhood, with watercolour courage holding my past close behind often running back to the child I truly was.

I thought I knew what kind of girl I was after my first downfall, continuously wiping salty tears from my immature cheeks. Falling once again yet clenching my fists, I stand head held high with pride.

I thought I knew what kind of girl I was 7 months ago when I and everyone I knew denied me of rights I was told I deserved, 5 months when I found you, and 3 when I found us.

But today, what kind of girl am I? What labels will I be burdened with? Who's scornful names must I carry with me, scraping the naked skin off my back. Who am I? 

Biracial, Cotton fluff hair, hazel eyes and coffee coloured skin that glows in the sun. 

Assests that are just as materialised as the last, are just as protected as your first.

Honey that can make you weak at the knees, make your head roll back, and for God sake grab onto something before you hurt yourself, hmm. a woman.

With all her various uses and utilities that aren't compared to a man because we are the fairer sex, we are the delicate ones. WE are the one's to wait and preserve our monuments for inauguration and not prepare an inauguration for your monuments. A woman 

A strong growing woman, 

With two legs, two arms, and a yearning heart am I not the same as you? 

Or you? Or you? Or you? 

Do we not claim the same earth to touch, the same air to breathe. 

Do I not deserve to share a common ground, a name that we all own. 

Did I know that I would grow up to connect with a guy then fall for a girl that would become my world. A flawless girl that is my life, soul, and spirit. I would give every thing I had till I was left with the scraps you all left me with, the ditch I was thrown into, the rags I wore dripping from my body as an exhibition for my tanished soul, for her happiness.

And is it the activities of my rounded lips, my love for expression, my confidence and self freedom to defy you and all your cohaught's wishes that makes me less of a woman. 

Is it the fact that I am with someone with the same assets as me rather that the opposing, someone with delicate hands, and deep dark brown eyes. Someone that I'm proud to show off more than anything I would have ever thought that makes me any less of a lover.

Or is it that I am finding myself in situations where I see the sun shine through my window and roll over onto my side till moonlight seeps through the everlasting daylight. I'm looking to those that wear an everlasting smile, with their lipstick stains so deep and morals so weak, yet their perfume stench trailing their bodies, and fragrant flowers resting in their hair. Do you wear it to disguise the reek of you rotting? How did that work for you? Because I'm sill trying to find the easiest way to hide my  reducing self hate, brought to me by all this pressure. If you knew you'd be remembered would you have worn more make up? Would you have walked, talked differently. Cause I'm 16 and I'm standing looking at myself in the mirror trying to figure out whether I should iron the creases out of my dress this morning.

Does any of this make me less of the person I want to be. No, it just makes me human.

It's funny how we have so many emotional triggers.
A smell, a picture, a song, even a food. And how they can trigger a memory.
How this memory, recent or distant, can fill our whole being with a new sort of energy. Within a matter of seconds our emotional state will change, so quickly we don't even notice.
If there was a way I could try describe this feeling; heart sinking, like a heavy thump, hitting your body, from the inside. Shaking you up. These emotions can be so darn powerful, making you forget whatever you were doing before, distract even from life it self, from Earth. None of it is of any importance any more, none whatsoever.
You find yourself lodged within a memory, in another setting, with other feelings.
Like streams, they flow to your senses, hitting them with a smooth reminder of a past time. Strong enough to make your heart skip, and the little hairs on your arms rise.

La vie d'adele

The deepest scar comes from someone that doesn't understand nor realise the depths of your devotion. Dismisses it and tells you to concentrate on yourself, but how? HOW. How...
All I care for is you.
When will you begin to realise

"I’m real tired of seeing skinny white kids painted as THE AVERAGE QUEER. Like please show me a curvy Indian agender kid from Brooklyn, a hispanic lesbian and her black girlfriend. A trans demisexual dude from Korea. GIVE ME SOMETHING OTHER THAN LANKY PALE PEOPLE WITH COLORFUL HAIR PLEASE GOD."

This is probably the best thing I've seen for ages; because it is 110% true. The media's representation of the LGBT community has become so corrupted with the overall image of skinny white kids with 10+ facial piercings and multicolored hair plastered almost everywhere related to LGBT, has recently increased it's already earned tag as the "gay" look. However, is it wise to present the question; WHY? Why must we be presented as this new wave of people, because really and truly how different are we from the rest of you? I think this quote really hits home for me, due to first hand experience. I'm constantly getting the same reaction when I tell people my sexuality: "Really?! You don't look like it!" But really and truly, what am I meant to look like? And as a young bisexual female it frustrates me, am I truly meant to go out of my way to cut my hair into that "gay" style, dye it a "gay" colour, and dress in a "gay" way for me to actually express my true identity? The saddest thing is that our generation is a slave to stereotype; I know because I myself have been a victim of this. Being young the process of 'coming out' is very daunting. I've certainly only started to feel more at ease with expressing my sexual preference in the last year or so. However part of 'coming out' is exploring your options, exercising your game, easing yourself into the 'scene' (or whatever you prefer) and really and truly, the hardest part of that for me was actually letting girls know I was bi (or more specifically making lesbian, or bisexual girls aware that I'm actually open for them to make a move if they wished to) because I couldn't exactly plaster I'M INTO GIRLS TOO, LET'S FUCK everywhere, it's hardly the most subtle approach. So I too followed this stereotypical "gay" image. I dyed my under layer green, and got my septum pierced (I also cut my hair however that was for a different reason), I thought this was the easiest and most subtle way to ease myself in. And it did get me more attention, not surprisingly, but it wasn't me. And it still isn't me, I loved my natural brown, more than any colour I could ever dye. It saddens me to know that more inexperienced young people succumb to recreating the look of 'the average queer' because they may not know any better. Considering that 4.6 percent of people with a Black decent responded "yes" when asked if they identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender, along with four percent of Hispanics, 4.3 percent of Asians and 3.2 percent of Caucasians - It's surprising and very slightly offensive that the media hasn't attempted to publicise the wide diversity of the gay, lesbian and transgender community. 
            Secondly it's about time we address the issue of stereotyping gay or lesbian couples. #!*^*$"XDGJVJF THIS IS A PROBLEM! I hate sitting down to watch a film or a TV series which does include a lesbian or gay couple and finding out that instead of casting one of the wide range of multiracial or other various types of couple, it's always the same thing. Most commonly with gay couples in the media, one  totally butch and the other an inexplicable camp, flamboyant, extrovert. But also the lesbian couple (or the lesbian fling, because I mean that's all it ever is before it gets reported off of TV for the pornographic content that is never even justified), the two stunning girls with long glossy hair, and perfect facial features; they stumble into some sort of attraction, kiss in the most unrealistically strange places, then one of them cheats on the other with their ex. It's all so forced, undoubted sex appeal, that objectifies women and lesbians in general. LESBIANS WEREN'T MADE SOLELY FOR THE PLEASURE OF MAN in no way. Granted it does happen, fair enough, but we are people, it's not fair to shovel one group of people into a pile, then label them with a purpose - because it seems to be the same guys that ostracize gay men and gay couples that spend their evenings getting off to lesbian porn. Like I said, this is a problem. And no one seems to want to face it. 

Lesbians aren't all butch, or plastic porn stars, gay couples don't always comprise of one butch and another camp. Everyone part of the LGBT community doesn't have rainbow coloured hair and 50 piercings, and you don't have to make yourself up in that way if you're not feeling that. And the end of the day we're all human, and what should define us is within our souls. Trrans, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Straight, Androgynous, Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, Mixed, Able-bodied, or non able-bodied. we're all human...
Now let's stop pretending otherwise.

 All I need in this life of sin

I don't understand what this sickness is all about. Everyday anaemia you want to be playing me. Making me feel breathless and sick and shit.
Lord only knows why my nose is bleeding & why I acc threw up this time. Dhshsyqiqgqh why now? Can you behave.

... like ngl, I'm kind of scared. Idk what ny body's playing at.

Om mani padme hum

Why does peace seem decades away. Even though my bliss lays next to me.

Simple Peace

I dream of a simple life.
A life with the sun and moon to light our way, the grass to lay on, trees to run through, and rivers to cleanse in. A family to spend my days with, laugh with, smile with, talk to.
A lover to hold at night, to kiss my forehead as the sun comes up and pull me in tighter as the morning breeze touches our cheek bones.
I dream of the simple life; where the flowers are luminous in the summer sun, where the streams glisten back at us like diamonds, where bees make peace upon a human's shoulder; and where a human makes peace in the shade of a large oak tree.
I dream of the days we come forth as a family while the sun sets, to gather, hold hands, and send up our prayers for continuous faith, love, peace. For us to be guided to love all that is given to us, to take it all as a blessing.
I dream of the days our eyes can peel open from the sweet sound of a voice singing and humming coming from beyond our bedroom walls, while the warm sun shines down our bodies, heating them up only to be cooled down with a cold shower before entering the kitchen and helping to cook breakfast. Or dancing around the house with the children, watching as their grins spread widely across their faces, tears from laughter form in their eyes. Their squeels and giggles as we pick them up and swing them about, sit them on our hip and dance with them just like our mother's did to us.
I dream of the simple life, the one our mother's and grandmother's lived before us.
I dream of tranquility, nature, warmth.
I dream of peace.
Simple, simple peace.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqVrNK4uiB4&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Simple peace in the arms of my lover

Deux ♡